


The Truth That Is

by KathAbernathy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, Oneshot, Romance, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathAbernathy/pseuds/KathAbernathy
Summary: Maggie points out the obvious.This would be rated G if not for language.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	The Truth That Is

"So, what's the deal with you and Daryl?" Maggie asks. She and Carol are outside the community pantry loading the last items into the wagon for a trading run to Oceanside.

Carol's been waiting for this bomb to finally drop. She's just grateful it's dropped in an unpopulated area. It's so early that most people are still asleep, and there's no one else around to see her cringe or blush at Maggie's inquiry. She'd honestly forgotten about Maggie and Glenn and the way they'd always treated Carol and Daryl as if they were a couple.

" _Deal?_ " Carol queries. She picks up a bag of grain and uses the lifting motion as an opportunity to turn away from the younger woman. "What kind of deal?"

Maggie stops immediately and faces her, hands on her hips. "You know full well what. The two of you aren't together, yet?"

"It's not like that," Carol explains, still avoiding her eyes.

" _Right_ ," Maggie agrees with an exaggerated nod.

"It's _not_."

"I get it, you're both still keeping the secret from each other."

Carol made a _pshht_ sound. She wasn't sure how to process this. Daryl wasn't into her that way and he never had been. Clearly, Maggie was mistaken.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she says finally. "Daryl isn't -- he's not --"

"He's not what?" Maggie challenges. "Not interested? Are you blind? That man watches you more closely than that dog of his watches him. Always has." She shakes her head.

Carol is flustered and doesn't know what to do. There's no crack into which she can squeeze herself and disappear. Maggie is confused, that's all. She thinks she's seeing something that doesn't exist. On _Daryl's_ part, anyhow. The mere fact that Maggie can see straight through Carol's own carefully crafted facade is alarming.

"You're imagining things," she says, offering an escape and hoisting herself up over the tailgate into the bed of the wagon with her bow, making last minute adjustments to the packing of their cargo, anything to avoid looking at her friend. Carol can sense Maggie's gaze burning into the back of her head and she feels like a bug under glass.

Now it's Maggie's turn to scoff. "I think _you're_ the one imagining things. I mean, after everything, _everything_ , Carol, you still came back here _with_ him. If that's not the reason, then why?"

Carol clambers up into the driver's seat and gathers the reins. She has a wild urge to cluck the horses into a trot and just leave Maggie standing there in the street. But of course, she doesn't do that. She forces a veil over her eyes as she coolly meets the other woman's and doesn't answer. She's not required to, and it's annoying she feels the need to remind herself of this.

Maggie raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Carol breaks out a tiny smile and shakes her head. "We should get on our way. It's a long ride."

It _is_ a long ride, and they make some small talk on the road about everything that has nothing to do with Daryl. It doesn't take much for Maggie to catch on and start playing along. At first, it seems playful and foolish and fun, but forthe first time ever, as the morning waxes into afternoon, Carol imagines a world without Daryl in it. The degree of thought she needs to inject into her words to avoid mentioning him or anything to do with him for hours is shocking. He is so much a part of her life, every day. It's simultaneously a kick in the face and a wake up call. "Damn you, Maggie Rhee."

Maggie shoots her a sideways grin. "We finally gonna mention Daryl, now?"

Carol is certain her entire face is turning hot pink and there's nothing she can do with the reins in her hands except hold on to them and look straight ahead. "If you insist," she concedes.

"Carol. Why are you not together? Seriously."

"It's complicated."

"That's horseshit and you know it. I love Daryl to death but when it comes to matters of the heart, he's less complicated than a flea. The man's always worshipped the ground you walk on."

"Oh that can't be true, you're imagining things," Carol denies, flustered as her pink cheeks darken to scarlet. She can feel herself actually beginning to sweat. "I don't know why you'd think it."

"So you're claiming to be oblivious to the way he watches you. After all this time."

"Maggie, he doesn't."

"He does. _Constantly_. Always has." Maggie shakes her head. "I never understood why you married Ezekiel when Daryl's obviously the one."

"He's not, though. I keep telling you."

"Well, you're only trying to convince yourself, because I'm not buying it," Maggie retorts. "Next time you're around him, pay attention. That man never takes his eyes off you. Staring after you like a lovesick puppy. You need to trade the truth you know for the truth that _is_."

Carol laughs. "That's ridiculous! Daryl? He wouldn't, ever." But her heart's risen clear into her throat and it's beating so hard and fast she's afraid Maggie will notice.Maggie gives a smug grin and clucks to herself in satisfaction, sitting back in her seat as they finish the journey in silence.

*******

The women spend the night in Oceanside and return the following day. The trading's good and they're bringing home some much-needed supplies and a lot of salt. The ride back starts out quiet and introspective, each woman alone with her own thoughts. Maggie's a little discouraged by how different everyone and everything's become. She feels shell shocked. Hilltop being gone hit her hard, and she's still reeling over everyone they lost to the Whisperers. The communities are ghost towns to her, now. She's not entirely sure what she was hoping to find, but it wasn't all this death and destruction and Negan running around loose.

"Negan," she said out loud, voicing her thoughts.

Carol was poised and waiting for whatever came next. "What about him?"

"You let him out."

"I did. I'd do it again. I'm sorry." And she is. Maggie can hear it in her voice.

For a little while they rode in silence, then Maggie said, "You can do that, and say this, and fight all those Saviors and Wolves and Whisperers and cannibals but you can't talk with Daryl."

"That's not true, I talk with Daryl every day."

"You know what I mean."

Carol sighed. "Please don't."

"Don't what? Don't help move you along, after both of you already wasted God only knows how much good lovin' by dancin' around each other for years like a couple of nervous goony birds --"

Carol bursts out laughing in spite of herself. "You paint quite a picture." She doesn't dare permit herself to visualize what "good lovin'" with Daryl might look like, let alone how it might feel. She wants to cross her arms over her chest, but she's holding the reins again. "Things are -- different than they were before. What might have been possible yesterday isn't possible today."

"Why not?" Maggie asks softly. "If he's got no chance, at least tell him so... so he can move on."

"I can't," is all Carol manages to say.

"Because it's not true?" Maggie asked. "I don't get it. You two, you've always, had this... thing between y'all. Always. You don't act on it, but everyone else sees it."

"There's nothing to see except friendship."

"Oh please, friends don't look at each other like that."

"Okay, _okay_. I believe you." But does she? "Look, I only recently divorced--"

"It's been long enough," Maggie interrupts her. "And from what little you've shared about it, it was more make-believe than a real marriage."

"I was tipsy when I said that. It was unfair of me," Carol says remorsefully. "Ezekiel's a good man, but..."

"...He's not Daryl," Maggie finishes for her.

Carol's beginning to feel trapped. Part of her is so desperate to open up to a friend and the other part is screaming at her to curl up inside her shell and protect her soft underbelly before it's too late. She's never spoken of her feelings for or about Daryl to _anyone._ The world knew they were best friends, that was all. She'd said that to Henry. "He's my best friend." Then, when Daryl used the words himself, she'd teased him without mercy.

She's wanting to trust Maggie and she's scared to death. Once she speaks the words out loud she can't take them back. Giving voice to it makes it real. She's convinced herself forever that _he just doesn't see her that way,_ and if she gives in to the hope that he _does_ , it will be that much more shattering when her initial take is proven right. She'd rather be eaten by a walker than rejected by Daryl.

Maybe she can confide in Maggie. They've been through hell together, and Maggie's been through hell all her own, losing her entire blood family and her husband. She's known loss as great as any Carol's experienced. All that history ought to count for something in this world. If she can't confide in Maggie, who else is there?

"He made me a bracelet and asked me to run away with him to New Mexico," Carol blurts out unexpectedly.

" _Daryl_ did? _Really!_ So you're both still here why...?"

"Uh, the, uh, Whisperers happened again," she explains. "They came back, and there wasn't any time, and I was a little, um, preoccupied...?" She looks down at her hands and sighs. "I was determined to kill Alpha. In a way, I did. But I burned a lot of bridges and people got hurt. Some were killed because of me. Connie." She coughed.

"Who was Connie?" Maggie asks, detecting a change in Carol's tone.

Who _was_ Connie? No one's ever presented that question to Carol, and for a minute she's stumped about how to respond. Does she describe the Connie she knows as a friend and member of the community? Or the Connie she sees as a potential mate for Daryl? She attempts to commingle both.

"She is -- she _was_ a woman who came in with Luke, Magna, Yumiko and Kelly. Kelly's sister. She was a journalist before the Turn, she wrote an exposé outing crooked corporate big shots. They used to say deaf-mute to describe people like her, but it sounds so rude now. That was never how I thought of her. She and Kelly taught the rest of us sign language. Dog was in love with her." Where the hell did that come from?

"Where does Daryl figure into things?" Maggie asks. Carol feels as exposed as if she's been sitting naked in the wagon all this time. Maggie of course sees straight through the mask she's trying to wear.

"I think -- I thought -- there was something that could be. Between them. She was young, and beautiful. A kind, sweet person who smiled a lot and had a can-do attitude. Everybody loved her. The same way people loved Glenn."

Maggie ponders this for a while. "How did people love Glenn?"

Carol gives it some thought before answering. Everything is quiet except for the squeaks of the wagon and the harnesses and the clop of the horses' hooves on the road. It matters what she says and she wants to say it right. "He was the happy one, the sunny side up. Always finding the positive, turning perceived weaknesses into strengths. He was funny, fair, and kind, and he had the biggest heart..."

The light catches the tears welling in Maggie's eyes and she blinks hard and wipes one from her cheek as it spills over.

"...Glenn wanted to help people," Carol continued, "He was willing to give anybody a second chance."

"Do you think he'd have given Negan a second chance?" Maggie finally asks.

Carol starts to answer, then stops. She shrugs. "If anyone would after... _that_ , it'd be Glenn. Don't you think?"

"Hmm." Maggie's thinking about it, she can tell. Her eyes are shaded by the brim of her hat and mostly hidden, but she has that same look when she's being thoughtful about something. It's the same expression Hershel would wear. She glances up, and her next question is skeptical. "So... Connie had a thing with Daryl?"

"He claims it wasn't like that," Carol explains, keeping her face slightly averted so her friend won't see the jealousy there.

"D'you believe him? Daryl's not inclined to telling lies."

"No, no he's not," Carol agrees. _Either there was nothing happening or Daryl's a liar, do you really need to think about which it is?_ "I don't understand why not. She was ...perfect," she finishes lamely.

"And you're not perfect?" Maggie asks.

"We're not talking about me," Carol says uncomfortably.

"Yes, we are. If we're talking about who Daryl's interested in, I don't expect any name to come up but yours."

"Daryl is _not_ interested in me like that," she insists. "Damn." She's running out of defenses and becoming exasperated. "Why are you so certain he is?"

"I told you Carol, that man's eye follows you everywhere. If you're in his sight, he's watchin' damn near nonstop. Pay attention when we get back. You'll see." Maggie changes position to smile up into the warmth of the sun. "Can't believe its been that way all these years and you've never noticed. Open your eyes."

Carol doesn't know what to say to that, so she doesn't say anything.

*******

They turn the wagonload of provisions over to other people once within the gates, and Maggie accompanies Carol back to the brownstone. Maggie's staying in Michonne's room for now. All three of the kids greet them at the door while Daryl offers a wave from the stove where he's fixing dinner. The surge of emotion rushing through Carol to see him again catches her by surprise. Damn Maggie and her speculations, anyway. Besides, she's right here in the same room with him and Daryl's not looking at her now.

It's only temporary, and for safety reasons. Once he gets the hot frying pan out of his hand, his turbulent blue eyes flicker from her to the plates he's filling, back to her, then to the plates, then back to Carol again. She gifts him with a smile so bright and happy it makes him blush like a teenager.

All through the meal and afterward, she pays attention while trying not to give away that she is. She watches Daryl without watching him, and Maggie's right after all, because he does _follow_ her constantly with his gaze when she's in eyeshot. He's surreptitious about it too, but it's obvious now she knows to look for it. How many years has he been this way and she never noticed? Has her head been so far up her own ass all this time? She catches Maggie's eye across the table several times and struggles to maintain her poker face.

Once or twice Daryl sees them exchanging a look, and he smirks. "You ladies look like you're executin' some sort of plan."

"I've got an idea of my own," Maggie says, rising from her seat with her empty plate. "Why don't you two go for a walk? I'll clean up and hang back with the kids."

Judith and Lydia glance up at both Carol and Daryl, then bow their heads quickly back to their food, pretending nothing else exists. R.J. isn't even paying attention.

Carol and Daryl's eyes meet across the table and they rise from their chairs at the same moment, and of course _that_ was bound to happen, it's just the way they are. Daryl beats her to the door and opens it ahead of her and she gives him a little smile and a nod as she accepts the offering. The shift in perspective is dizzying for Carol. It's as if all this time she thought she was reading him when was she was really doing was reading him _upside down._ Because he's definitely doing everything to reinforce the suspicion that her inner narrator's been full of shit, and for a very long time.

Dog whines behind them and they invite him along. If they want to walk outside the walls, Dog's a good lookout, and he needs the exercise. Both of them try to pretend they don't notice that everyone in the vicinity is watching as they descend the steps to the street and make their way to the gate by the tower. Carol knows there's something different because she has new knowledge now. Can other people feel the difference, too? She feels like they're somehow on display.

"What's eatin' you?" Daryl asks, giving her the side eye. "Looks like you're ready to jump clear outta your skin."

"Everyone's staring," she hisses beneath her breath. "Why are they all staring at us?"

There are a good number of folks out and about in the early evening, but no one speaks to them when they walk through the gate, although a group of several people separate and move to let them pass. It isn't until they're almost out of sight of the walls that Carol realizes why they've been under such scrutiny.

"We don't have our bows," she says. "My long bow. Your crossbow. We never leave without them."

"Not like we're unarmed. Still got our knives. Got Dog, too." At the sound of his name, Dog - who is far ahead and leading them - circles around and comes back to trot at Daryl's side for a while. Carol, on his other side, catches the tiny glances he steals from beneath his fringe when he thinks she's not looking. How has she never noticed? It's clear as day now she knows what to watch for. Maybe Maggie's right about all of it.

They take a side trail through a grove of oak trees down to a sunny section of the river where someone has built benches of stone and boards. The benches are built in a "V" shape to enable the seated to watch out for walkers over each other's shoulders and not sit with their backs both to the woods. Carol knows Rosita calls this "the courting bench." It intrigues her that this is where Daryl's led her on their walk. She wonders if he also knows it's the courting bench.

"Whatcha smilin' at?" He asks shyly.

"Oh, nothing," she answers, smiling back at him. "This is nice. Just going for a walk to go for a walk. I haven't done anything like this in forever."

He chuckles. "I haven't done anything like this ever, period." They both sit facing each other, hands nervously gripping the sides of their respective benches. Both a leisurely stroll and leaving the compound without their bows are completely new for them. They are awkward and shy as teenagers on their first date but neither would rather be anyplace else or in the company of anybody else. Their mutual happiness at being alone together -- even if they're just sitting by the river -- is palpable. After a brief reconnaissance of the immediate area, Dog relaxes and curls up in the grass nearby.

"This is nice, " Carol repeats, twisting her hands nervously together in her lap and not looking up from them. "Can't remember the last time I did anything like it."

"We should. Do this more." He's watching her again, in that surreptitious way he has. "Take a little space for ourselves once in a while."

She boldly reaches across the gap between them to take his hand, and his fingers curl and wrap around hers. They aren't making eye contact at the moment, but their hands are saying everything to each other.

"Will you stay?" Daryl asks. She hears all the hope and dread rolled up in his question. _Are you going to leave me again? Will you run away now?_

"You mean in Alexandria?" Carol asks. He nods. "I'm staying wherever you are," she asserts. "From now on. Unless... unless you don't want me to."

Daryl's grip on her hand tightens, and he lays his other hand over the top of their already clasped fingers. "Best news I've heard in a long time." He braves a smile and she can tell he's genuinely happy about it. "I ain't never gonna get tired of you," he adds. "The more you're around, the better."

She doesn't know where to go, what to do, or what to say from here. Her heart's pounding, but it's not in a bad way. It's as if the air between them is full of invisible sparks, the energy between them is so electric and real. They sit for a long time, not talking, just facing one another on the benches and holding on to each other's hands. Anyone coming across them would think they are lovers sitting there.

He's still looking at her and Maggie was right, Maggie was right. All this time and how could she have been so blind? Carol releases his hands and rises from her bench, then takes a step toward him and settles herself into his lap. Daryl almost seems ready for her to land there, leaning back to make room and wrapping his arms loosely around her to keep in place. They both smile and duck their heads a bit, but don't speak. They don't trust themselves to speak. They simply embrace and nuzzle together in a contented silence, listening to the river, and it's one of the best and most peaceful moments ever for both of them.

They aren't sure how long they remain that way. It's cozy and comforting and warm, and neither is eager to release their hold on the other. Carol snuggles a little deeper into Daryl and feel him developing a physiological problem as she shifts around in his lap. Her fingers tangle in his hair and his raises his head and their eyes meet, and it's the most beautiful, awkward and nerve-racking moment imaginable, both of their fight-or-flight alarm bells are shrieking the same time their hearts just want to sing at top volume.

Suddenly Dog's on his feet with his ruff bristling and watching down the trail, then Negan's on the scene in his black leather jacket, whistling beneath his breath and practically trampling them before he notices they're there. They start and stare at him. Carol instinctively begins to exit Daryl's embrace, then visibly corrects herself and sinks right back in, her gaze possessive and defiant.

The intruder's face shows nothing except shock and surprise. "Well, shit! Excuse the hell out of me! I-- " Negan abruptly silences himself, does an about-face, and retreats without another word in the direction he came. He disappears so fast they almost wonder if he's real or an apparition.

"That was... strange," Carol says. She looks at Daryl. "Am I getting heavy?"

"Nah. Not a bit. Can stay here all year, if you like," he offers.

"Hmmm," she hums, tilting her head like she's thinking about it. "Winter would come and you'd freeze to death, though."

"If that's what you want? Gladly. Anything."

He's so sincere, and Maggie was right, Maggie was right, his face and his eyes, they do not lie. Because he doesn't. This is his truth and he's speaking it.

"I want to keep you close, and I want us both to live," she confesses, her voice so low it's nearly a whisper. "For a very, very long time."

"Works for me," Daryl says. "I want exactly the same things you do."

Carol blinks, and her head's swimming. Did they just have the conversation she _thinks_ they did? Maybe she misunderstood him. Maybe _he_ misunderstood _her_.

"You second-guessin' it, now?" He asks apprehensively. "Changin' your mind already? Ain't even been sixty seconds." His blue eyes are wounded.

"No! No! I'm just -- it's so -- I wasn't expecting-- " She gets up off his lap and a chill moves in immediately to those spots vacated by her warmth. Dog bounds over to check on them, tail held high. Carol turns to Daryl and extends her hand.

"It's getting cold out and it'll be dark, soon. Let's go home."

Daryl stands and accepts her offered hand. "Home is where the heart is."

Carol makes a face. "That's corny."

"Thought you liked corny," he counters, as they started back hand in hand, with Dog proudly marching ahead to lead the way.

"Corny was nice because it was make believe and better than any of my realities at the time," she explains. "With you, it's all about the truth and what you see is what you get. There's no make believe or pretending. So, I don't need those things, any more. Not now."

"Just the straight truth from here on out, huh?"

She gives a vigorous nod. "Absolutely."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

She stops, and he stops with her. They're standing in the middle of a field between the paved road and the oak grove. Carol squeezes his hand and pressed it to her chest. "I see a man of honor," she breathes, "I see everything I ever wanted."

**Author's Note:**

> *****
> 
> I own nothing, I just like to play in the Caryl toy box.
> 
> This started out as a side doodle when a multi chap fic I was working on bogged down. I never cared for Maggie much, but I guess she got in there deeper than I knew, since I'm now convinced she's Carol's friend and has been all along (in spite of "You were right to send her away." Absolutely everyone on TWD has made horrible errors in judgement, so imma give her a bye.) I wanted Carol to be able to talk with someone about Daryl (although she doesn't really here, either, it's Maggie says most of it), and I wanted her to articulate how she sees Connie. Maybe I sent them off on their romantic walk a little soon, but I think Daryl's going to be absolutely ready whenever Carol finally gets woke. 
> 
> Much as I enjoy the "let's confess our feelings and fall into bed together" trope, it's probably an unrealistic expectation for Caryl. Both still carry a lot of extra baggage and they're going to be so awkward. I think there will be a long journey yet between admission/declaration and consummation. 
> 
> And...I wanted to prove I could actually write a Caryl fic where they don't use their tongues except to talk. ;-) 
> 
> I hope you found something here to enjoy.  
> 


End file.
